


RIP Jeep

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 1968 Firebird, 1980 Jeep CJ5, Cars, Don't know why I wrote it but I did, M/M, Peter Hale is a Softie, Ta-daa, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Stiles' Jeep dies. Like, for real this time. The boy is devastated over the loss of his baby blue rust-bucket and Peter kind of feels bad. So, he gets him a new one. Sort of.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 160





	RIP Jeep

“I’m not having this conversation with you again.” Peter didn’t even bother to look him in the eyes as he continued walking away from the Jeep.

“But it’s _not_ broken!” Stiles huffed, tripping over a pile of snow in his haste to catch up with the bastard.

“Stiles...”

“Okay, so it’s a _little_ broken, but I can fix it! It’ll still drive if I just fix the battery terminal thingie. I just have to get it to the mechanic and they’ll take care of the important stuff.” Stiles threw himself at Peter and wrapped his hands around his arm, digging his heels in. “Come on, please!”

Peter sighed heavily and kept walking. “I’m calling a tow-truck, and it’s going to the junkyard.”

“ _WHAT?!_ But-”

Peter finally stopped and turned around so he could grab Stiles’ shoulders. “Look at it, Stiles!” He turned the boy towards the Jeep. The Jeep, with only two wobbly tires. And there were just a few cracks in some of the windows, a few dents... And the door that was missing wasn’t even one of the important ones! Sure, the roof was caved in at one spot and the headlights were duct-taped on... And okay, fine, that back axle has been acting weird... and there’s been a leak coming from somewhere and it’s been getting worse... and the engine has been making some concerning noises lately...

“But... Roscoe’s my baby.” Stiles pouted. The damn thing fell off of a cliff last month. Of course it was a little banged up. But it’s still trucking on! That’s a machine that seriously wants to live!

“Every baby must leave the nest...” Peter tried halfheartedly, rolling his eyes, but Stiles scoffed.

“Yeah, sure, but you’re taking my baby to the _slaughter_ _house_.”

“It’s a junkyard.” Peter began walking again. “And it’s not a real baby.”

“You wouldn’t understand!” he crowed, latching on to Peter’s arm again. Maybe, if nothing else, to feel his muscles. And also to warm his fingers because winter is cold and werewolves are warm. “You never experienced that ‘boy-meets-car’ moment!”

“Darling, my first car was a dark blue ‘68 Firebird that I had for three months before it met its fate. Seeing that car get towed away crushed me. I didn't drive again for half a year.”

Stiles hummed and made a face. "Oh my god, of course you drove a Firebird." Peter shot him a steely eyed look. “What happened to it?”

“Forgot to yield. Got t-boned.”

“Oof.”

“By a semi.”

“ _Oof.”_

“So, as you see... I really do understand, dear.” He looked over at the boy. "But I'm sick of having to come rescue you. What if you had been being chased? What if you broke down in the middle of the highway? Or in the middle of no where?"

"Then I'd call you."

"What if you didn't have service? Or if I simply didn't answer?"

"Well then I'd be really pissed."

"And _alone_." Peter set his hand on the back of Stiles' neck and squeezed, pulling him away from the Jeep. Stiles looked over his shoulder and whined at his baby, sitting there lifeless on the side of the road in a ditch. "Life will go on," the wolfman drawled.

"I'm not driving this."

Stiles stared with his arms crossed at the old-lady sedan.

"It's all we have," the poor car-rental girl said with an air of unease. She was maybe a year older than Stiles but, with her cutting glances at Peter, he could tell she was shy and very daunted by the beautiful.

Ha. Stiles was like her once.

Until 'the beautiful' turned out to be raging pains in his ass for years to come.

"Stiles," Peter sighed, rubbing his face. "Please don't make this any more difficult than it has to be." See? Pain the ass.

"You're the reason I'm here," Stiles hissed, glaring at the silver piece of crap. He'd have to crouch just to get in it! "I believe very strongly that a real car is a car which you have to _climb_ into! You know that sound when you get into a really good car? Well it should be the sound of manly exertion! Not... Whatever the sound I'd make to get into _this_ thing!"

Peter rose a brow at him. "And just exactly what sound do you make to get into the Camero?"

"I-..."

"Because most of the time you squeal like a dying seagull every time you trip over your feet and hit your head on the side of the car on the way in."

"Well-"

"And you've expressed how much you like the Camero, have you not?"

"It's not the same!"

Peter smiled and turned towards the girl. "We'll take the car, thank you."

It's been a week since Stiles' car was deemed totalled. He got just $850 from it, according to it's net worth via insurance. Stiles was upset, needless to say.

Peter watched him kick the tires of the rental one day it wouldn't start. Watched him bang his fists on the hood, watched him positively wail at the loss of his baby... And he couldn't help but remember watching his first car being towed away - so demolished you could hardly tell it had ever been the most beautifully kept Firebird in existence.

He listened to Stiles whine at his father, telling him he'd only had $1,000 saved up over the year and $1,850 wasn't enough to buy him a good enough car. Listened to his dad tell him, "I'm sorry, son. You're just going to have to settle with whatever you can afford."

From Peter's spot on the Stilinski's roof, he watched Stiles drag his feet to the rental, get in, and pout at the steering wheel for about half an hour until the tow-truck got there to take away the dud rental and bring him a new one - this time a _white_ sedan. "Great," he heard Stiles mumble as he got in and drove to school, nearly an hour late.

Peter sighed, cursing to himself.

He's about to do something wholesome, and he hated himself for it.

Stiles turned down the road to his house, cussing at the damn rental for smelling like farts and cherries, and slapped the dashboard when the A/C turned off. It kept doing that. There was a short somewhere, he was sure.

When Stiles looked up, his heart stopped.

Parked in their yard was a beautiful, shiny and super fucking souped up 1980 CJ5 Jeep. Stiles parked the rental and got out, mouth hanging wide when he came closer. The Jeep was the same exact baby blue that Roscoe was. But it was lifted. And the wheels were huge and beefy as _fuck_. And the lights? Fuck, it had bar lights and extra headlights. It had a sick push bar and wench attachment on the front. It had a sturdy ass roll-cage wrapped with a beautiful leather topper.

"Oh my god." It was _beautiful_.

He opened the door and looked at the interior, gasping at the brand new, fancy ass radio, the 6-speed gear shifter and four-wheel drive, the beautiful leather seats. He popped the hood and eagerly lifted it, and almost cried at the engine.

"It's not the original engine." Stiles jumped at Peter's voice, and stared at him. "It's a newer one. Custom made." He nodded to the impeccably clean, brand new, souped up engine. "More power, more control. This thing will never break down on you."

" _You_ did this?!"

Peter shrugged. "It took a while to find. Had to fly across the country to get it."

" _That's where you've been?!_ "

"I got this thing up to 125 miles an hour on the way back."

Stiles' eyes went huge and he looked back at that engine. No way was that a normal CJ5 engine, that much was for sure. "Holy shit."

"I believe," Peter said as he shut the hood and got in the passenger seat, beckoning Stiles to follow suit. "It can do zero to sixty in, hmm, 5 seconds?"

Stiles' eyes went impossibly wider as his hands subconsciously stroked the wheel.

Peter smirked and handed him over a single key on a leather key chain. It was even the original, old kind.

Stiles cranked it up and groaned at the low growl of the engine taking to life.

"I know it's not exactly the same as your first car, but..." Peter smiled. "I wanted you in something a little better, anyway."

Stiles looked over at him as he held down the clutch and pressed down the gas, hearing the sheer fucking _power_ of the engine. "Peter?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

With those three true words hanging in the air between them, Stiles put ruts in the grass as he sped onto the road, laughing maniacally with glee.

**Author's Note:**

> 'cuz gay guys can be into cars too :)


End file.
